Sometimes it feels wrong
by BoxOfTrinkets
Summary: Your comfortable. Sure you love her. But you don’t love her love her. You don’t love her with that burning passion that you reserved for another.


A loud clap of thunder arouses you from your sleep and you roll over in a panic. You realize its only the rain and you lay back down. The girl sleeping next to you rouses and well and cuddles herself into your side. You automatically wrap your arm around her. She smiles up at you with her large dark eyes and pouting smile. Your comfortable. Sure you love her. But you don't love her love her. You don't love her with that burning passion that you reserved for another. But. All that is in the past. You look down at your wife. And sigh. She thinks it's a sigh of love and she leans in for a kiss. But it feels all wrong.

Its wrong because Carly's eyes are brown. So plain. So ordinary. They didn't sparkle or blaze or shimmer when she was angry. Because Carly never got angry. You stare into them and long for them to turn into the vivid icy blue that you used to stare into before…well. Before. You want the lively spark reflecting from its cerulean back ground as the owner of those eyes yells something at you or throws something before tackling you to the floor and kissing you so hard your head spins.

Its wrong because Carly has brown eyes. And Sam's eyes were blue.

Your wife kisses you harder and you kiss her back, humoring her, because she cries when you don't kiss her back and she knows your not thinking about her. You wind your hand through her think and shiny black brown hair that's gotten so long over the years. Its soft. It smells good. But it feels all wrong.

It's wrong because almost everyone has dark hair. It's so plain. So ordinary. It didn't catch the light when it shook when she laughed, and it didn't change color if it was cloudy out. Its wrong because her dark hair falls straight down her back to her thin wais. You wind your hand around it and you long for it to turn blonde and for it to spin into the unruly curls that you so lovingly stroked many years ago. You watch her laugh and throw her dark hair over her shoulder and your dying on the inside because it doesn't catch the light the ways hers used to when she did one of her many psychotic dances which involved injuring you in some way.

It's wrong because Carly has brown hair. And Sam's hair was blonde.

You murmur something about the rain and your wife laughs, her body shaking next to yours. A chill runs through your body as memories continue to run through your head. You lay back and listen to her soft and tinkling laugh. Its soft and polite, just like its owner. But it sounds so wrong.

It's wrong because its boring. Its so plain. So ordinary. It didn't ring through a room with the same melodic twang that hers had. It didn't express the joy that a laugh is supposed to hold the way hers did. When Carly laughed, you smiled at her. When Sam laughed, you wanted to laugh with her. Carly's laugh was quiet and bubbly, just like her. Sam's laugh was loud and commanded attention. Just like her.

It's all wrong because your wife sounds like Carly and not Sam.

The thunder is quieter now and you adjust your arm around your wife. Her head is resting on your shoulder and you look down at her features. You know you should be happy. You wanted this girl for years and now you have her. You place a gentle kiss to her forehead. Because she is your friend. She's asleep now and you release your shoulder and roll over to your side of the bed and stare at your wall. Your not sad anymore. You love your wife. You just don't love her love her. But that's fine with you. Your comfortable. But every now and again it feels all wrong. Because your wife is sweet and polite and she has a soft tinkling laugh and large dark eyes and long straight dark hair and every now and again you yearn for the days of loud and free laughter and soft blonde curls and icy blue eyes and you miss her and your not comfortable with your wife anymore.

It feels all wrong because your wife's name is Carly. And not Sam.


End file.
